


Broken Zoetrope

by MercyBought



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AsylumTale, HorrorTale, Underfell, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercyBought/pseuds/MercyBought
Summary: A collection of short works for an asylum AU prompt.
Comments: 41
Kudos: 200





	1. First Encounter (Reader)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LlamaGoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LlamaGoddess/gifts).



> Inspired by some asks that llamagoddessofficial and semisolidmind posted on Tumblr. I do not own this idea or these characters, I just wanted to show some love for it. I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go into a wing of the asylum you hadn't meant to before and meet Skull for the first time.

_**Patient #: 664-S** _

_**Monster Class: Skeleton** _

_**Containment Procedures:** All physical interaction with Patient 664-S must be done by no less than two staff members and with at least two armed guards present. Staff are advised not to make any sudden movements around Patient 664-S, and to verbalize their actions before approaching. The room is to be monitored through CCTV all hours to ensure the patient does not escape his room. If an escape attempt is made, staff are to track down the patient partnered with at least one armed guard for recapture. If the patient is found, do not approach. Attempts to talk down the patient in the past have failed. Attempts to restrain the patient have resulted in at least 23 injuries, 8 of which caused permanent physical disability, and 5 fatalities during current internment. Orders are to monitor patient until reinforcements arrive. Guards are to be armed with Type C tranquilizer rounds to sedate patient._

_When transporting patient out of the room, patient must be restrained with high-grade steel cuffs and chains. A mask must be secured around the patient's jaw to prevent him from biting staff or other patients. Physical contact is to be kept to a minimum to prevent unnecessary agitation._

_**Description:** Patient 664-S ("Skull") is a Skeleton-class monster and was admitted on [DATA EXPUNGED] for severe psychosis, severe magical instability, and violent episodes. The patient has a large, exposed crack in the left parietal area of the skull, resulting in an extinguished right eyelight, but has refused to state when the injury was suffered and how. We believe the patient's symptoms are tied to the injury, but to date the patient has been resistant to all medical treatment. Patient refuses to allow staff to come in contact with the injury, and has on more than one occasion flown into a rage when attempts persisted. This has resulted in a reactionary aggression with all physical contact, but most notably when it is done without warning. _

_His increased size and density may be related to the magic instability, and as a result he is far taller and far stronger than other patients. When enraged, the patient is capable of summoning bone attacks, which can be fatal at any range, though due to his condition sustaining such magic dwindles quickly. Short bursts of said magic can still be fatal if staff are caught unawares. If the patient cannot use magic, he will resort to bludgeoning and biting, and has been shown to be more than capable of crushing human bone. The patient is swift and can attack without warning or hesitation. Repeated acts of unprovoked aggression have forced the implementation of current guidelines._

_Currently, the most effective punishment after attacking staff has been withholding meals. The patient has shown to become more compliant after 2-3 days of punishment, but this is not to exceed a period of one (1) week without approval from higher management. Current medication regimen and regular hydration are still required during this period._

_**NOTE:** Patient is known to be reclusive. Attempts at forcing communication have been met with apathetic silence or violent agitation. Proceed with caution when interacting with the patient._

* * *

"...."

You blinked, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let out a sigh through your nose.

This case file was...wow. This patient was much more dangerous than either of the skeletons you had cared for thus far. From what you could gather from the reading, it was little surprise that your coworkers considered him part of the "hazing process" for newbies when they came here. It also explained why the nurse you spoke with was so adamant about making you take on feeding duty for him this afternoon.

You looked up and met the doctor's eyes. They were grey, and very tired-looking, crows feet at the corners and permanent circles under his eyes where the skin sagged. He was watching you over steel-rimmed square glasses, with a sad smile on his face. Idly you wondered how much of the shaggy, greying hair was from age and how much was from working here.

"Are you...sure about this?" you asked hesitantly.

His smile tugged at the corners slightly, fighting not to become a grimace. "I understand if you're reconsidering, but I think that a new, friendly face would do a world of good for him." His hands were in his coat pockets, where they had rested after he handed you the clipboard with the file you had just read. His shoulders sagged, like the rest of him, but it wasn't like exhaustion from exasperation, like you were yet another nurse that he was burning through to take care of this patient. It was a soft, genuine hope; he really did think that you helping care for this patient would make a positive difference.

You swallowed as your eyes drifted back to the papers, mulling things over in your head.

It wasn't hard to see why the other staff acted so off in this wing. You had rarely come into this area of the asylum, but you had been marched here by two other nurses after overhearing a conversation. Normally you wouldn't have paid it any mind, but when you heard someone saying "I'm not going into that fucking room without a _cattle prod,_ management can eat shit for all I care-" it had piqued your interest, as well as more than a little concern. When you rounded the corner to see who was talking, the conversation immediately ended, the two nurses turning to you. The man had given you a pleading look, as if trying to warn you to walk away, but the woman whose voice you had overheard got to you before he could say anything. Neither of them recognized you, but when you said that you had started two weeks ago in another wing the woman's face became set with a hard glare.

"That's it. _You're_ feeding him, then. You're about to find out what you're _really_ working with in this hellhole."

And that was when she had grabbed you by the arm and started hauling you down the hall.

You were too caught up in your surprise to be able to muster any real objections, and the way the woman's grip on you tightened when you tried to pull away, fingers digging in like claws, you decided it was best to just go along with it. You caught her coworker's apologetic look before he accompanied you, trying to whisper reassurances.

Reassurances about _what,_ you weren't sure, and you were being pulled along at such a speed that you didn't have time to stop and ask either before you found yourself being shoved before a doctor you had never seen before.

You watched his brow raise, but before he could get a question out, or for you to try to stammer out an explanation of why you were in this area of the asylum to begin with, your guide had begun chewing him out with such vitriol it left you speechless.

"Since when did management start keeping the newbies in one ward?! We sure as hell weren't handled with kid gloves when we came here, so why are they getting preferential treatment?!" Her hand had finally released your arm, and you gave it a rub, wincing slightly as she became very animated, positively steaming from her ears about the supposed 'special treatment' you were getting.

As you watched her you began to notice little things. A faint scar running down her jaw onto her neck. A thin, bald line going through one of her eyebrows from an old injury.

The fact that she was missing the last knuckle of her ring and pinky fingers on her other hand.

You turned to look at the other nurse, and he was watching his coworker carefully keeping her voice at a certain volume as she reamed into him. It didn't look like the first time he had seen this, either. You could see scars on him too, thin scratches on one of his cheeks that he tried to hide behind a close-shaven beard, but the hair never really grew back where it happened. Peeking out from the collar of his uniform, you could see angry red skin on his neck, the top of a cruel scar that never fully healed properly. You felt your skin grow cold trying to imagine how far the scar must travel.

In front of you the doctor said some hushed words, and with a nod to the silent companion, the other nurse carefully took her arm, drawing her away to put a reassuring hand against her back as they retreated back down the corridor. You watched them go, anxiety crawling up your back, before the doctor cleared his throat. You jumped, immediately turning your attention back to him.

He had introduced himself, apologized for the rather rough treatment you had just endured, assuring you that that nurse would be spoken to, and asked you a little more about yourself. When you had started, the patients you had taken care of up until now, past job experience. After the miniature interview (that you were sure was leading up to what all this was about), he had requested your help.

And given you the file to read over.

And here you stood. With a decision to make.

If those scars were anything to go by, you should have said no. Should have apologized for wasting his time and scurried right back to your safe little ward, back to your patients and the two skeleton monsters you were already caring for. This seemed way above your pay grade, and not worth whatever hazard pay they would give you if you got involved with this patient.

But seeing that doctor's expression, hearing how sincere he was, it reminded you of why you took this job in the first place.

That desire to make a difference in the lives of your patients. A positive difference.

And then you thought of the conversation you overheard before you were brought here. Such powerful _hate_ and resignation.

You took a deep breath.

"What time do I need to be there?"

The doctor's smile turned more genuine.

* * *

You stood before the thick steel door that led into the patient's room. Your heart felt like it was in your ears. Before you came here you had spent the last hour and a half mentally psyching yourself up for this, but standing here felt almost surreal.

It didn't help that the other nurse that was coming in with you gave you a once-over and a sneer when they saw you. "Good luck, kid," he said, clapping you on the shoulder as they retrieved the tray of food for the patient. He didn't say anything else after that, besides to tell you that _you_ would be the one to feed him this time.

You were already shaky enough when that happened, but when you were joined by two guards in black kevlar and _rifles,_ you nearly dropped the tray. You knew the rounds that rested in the chambers were tranquilizers, but the imposing image they portrayed did absolutely nothing to steady your nerves.

(You could have sworn you heard one of them muttering to the other that "He's going to eat her _alive."_ You didn't say anything at the time, but you broke out into a cold sweat all the same.)

You looked at the other nurse, feeling yourself paling a little, but they merely jerked toward the door with their chin. Looking back at it, you took in a deep breath through your nose, and let it out with a huff.

_Okay._

You reached for the doorknob, but polite habits you picked up while in your other wing kicked in, and instead you gave the door a few firm knocks first, before grabbing the handle and turning it. You could hear the gears and tumblers within the door as it opened, though you had to push it with a little more effort than necessary. You didn't see how a pair of eyes rolled behind you as you did so.

The room inside was a dull white, much like the other rooms in the asylum. Painted white stone, no windows, cameras mounted in every corner of the room, red lights staring unblinkingly at the sole inhabitant. A wrinkled bed in the upper right corner, the steel unpainted and feeling almost naked somehow. You could see burn marks and deep gashes in some areas as you stepped in quietly, your entourage marching in behind you. You tightened your grip on the tray to keep them from shaking (and to stop yourself from accidentally dropping it).

On the other side of the room, strapped into a chair with thick leather straps behind a table bolted to the floor, a steel muzzle the same color as the bedframe fastened over his mouth, was the dreaded patient. He was _huge,_ easily dwarfing you, and were things different he would look almost comical sitting at a table clearly not built for someone his size. The uniform he wore was an off-white, and you could see numerous stitches in the garment where it had been torn in the past. His eyelight was fixed on the floor, and he didn't move as you came closer. Whether he looked relaxed or resigned, you couldn't be sure. Your eyes automatically drifted to the gaping, cracked opening in his skull, and you had to stifle a gasp. It looked painful, and from where you stood you could pick up just the faintest whiff of something like metal, acrid and slightly burning your nostrils.

As you took in the sight of him, you felt your heart give a twist in sympathy. He looked utterly dejected, you realized, and though it shouldn't have been a surprise the realization still hurt. Being surrounded by staff that hated and feared him, constantly having to be in restraints, the threat of starvation if he misbehaved; it was little wonder why he was like this.

You set your jaw, your eiphany filling you with DETERMINATION as you came closer.

"Hello Skull," you said softly, your voice warm. Remembering what it said in his file, you introduced yourself. "I'm going to help take care of you today, okay?" you said, starting to approach him.

The one working eyelight, glowing a dull red, finally slid up to gaze at you. He made no other movement. You met his gaze evenly, refusing to allow yourself to appear intimidated or scared. He's had enough of that from the other staff. Instead you tilted your head slightly to the side and smiled sincerely, feeling some strands of hair you had tucked behind your ear fall out of place. Behind you the guards stood on either side of the door, the other nurse hanging back and watching the scene in silence.

After a moment, the eyelight dilated slightly. You took that as a good sign and came closer, setting the tray down onto the table with a gentle _clack_. Your eyes were on the tray, making sure not to knock its contents over, and you reached up to tuck the errant strands back behind your ear. You were much closer now, and even sitting he was still a head taller than you. You fought a shiver, instead forcing yourself to relax.

_He's not going to hurt you._

When you looked up at him again, he was openly staring at you, his eyelight noticeably brighter than it had been a moment ago. It reminded you of Red's eyes, though instead of a cherry red like a Christmas lightbulb, or the burning end of a cigarette, Skull's eyelight was closer to the color of rust, of freshly spilled blood starting to dry.

You shoved the gruesome comparison into the back of your mind, but you couldn't help that feeling of close examination as he stared at you. Scrutinizing you. No doubt he was sizing you up, but that was nothing new. It certainly wasn't the first time a patient of yours was uncertain what to make of you, but...it was the first time you felt someone staring at you with such intensity.

You straightened up, meeting his eye with a small smile and holding up your hands, palms facing him. "I'm going to remove the muzzle so you can eat, okay?" you said, pausing for a moment for him to process this.

He remained silent, but you could have sworn you saw that fuzzy eyelight sharpen at your words. At this you finally hesitated, but hurriedly said "I promise I'll try not to touch you more than I have to," flexing your fingers slightly.

You eyed the sides of the muzzle, noting the clasps. They didn't look too complicated, but...

You glanced over your shoulder at the other nurse, but he met your gaze with an unimpressed stare of his own, making no move to step forward. _Okay, guess you're doing this alone._

You missed the way Skull's stare bored into you, gazing at your neck, then somewhere on your chest, as if trying to discern something, then your hair, and then back to your face, all in the span of those scant few seconds your attention was elsewhere. He was fully alert now, and he took in a silent, deep breath, inhaling your scent.

_You..._

When you looked back, his eye was searching your face, seeing that hint of worry that was there now. You reached for him slowly, whispering a "sorry" under your breath as you reached up to touch the clasps of the muzzle on either side of his head.

Your fingers flinched slightly when they touched them, despite trying not to, but he didn't move. Didn't flinch away from your touch, made no sign of agitation, though his eyelight darted from you to stare at your hand. You did your best to give him a reassuring smile as you tried to work on freeing the clasps, but...

...they were far more secure than you had initially thought. The shaky smile you had on gave way to a frown as your shaking fingers fumbled with them, and for a moment the nervousness you felt faded. Your lips parted slightly as you gave a small huff, and he watched with rapt attention. This wasn't working.

You pulled your hands away, fingers bent as you gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I've never done this before," you admitted. "Do you think you can look that way for me?" You pointed with one of your hands to his left, toward the wall.

He seemed to consider this for a moment, before he slowly turned his head, his eyelight never once leaving you. You visibly brightened at this, giving him a small thanks as you reached up to free that pesky clasp. Now that you could get a better look at it, it appeared that it was purposefully meant to have to be done with both hands, though if you weren't able to look directly at it you'd have a hard time trying to get it off. Which made sense, you guess, to keep it secure, but you wished the other nurse had told you that before you fumbled about like you had a moment ago.

Once you were finished with that side, you pointed to the opposite wall. "And now the other side?" He turned his head obediently, his eyelight bright and watching you unblinkingly as you worked on releasing the rest of the muzzle.

Behind you the nurse that was supposed to be helping you was watching with mild surprise, and greater suspicion. The patient was being far more cooperative than he had been before. Usually he wouldn't even acknowledge that he heard the other staff, let alone move his head for them. The only time they ever saw him move his head was when he jerked it to take a chunk out of another nurse's arm when they had wrenched the muzzle free and ended up clipping the patient's jaw with the hard metal. He hadn't taken too kindly to that, and they had to haul the nurse screaming from the room while the guards nailed him with the tranqs. Meals were withheld for almost a week after that happened, and that cooled him right the fuck down.

But here you were, all up in his personal space and seemingly ignorant of the amount of danger you were in. Pretending you weren't in the high-risk ward with the most volatile patient in the whole damned asylum. There was no reason for you to act so nonchalant, especially if you met two of the nurses that worked with him before.

The guards at the door tensed, their grips tightening on their weapons. They were observing the scene with a similar thought. The patient must be planning something for him to pretend to be so docile. Where you were standing it'd be harder to get a clean shot if, _when_ he did.

With a small _"Aha!"_ under your breath, you managed to free the rest of the muzzle. "There we go," you said, almost aglow with triumph as you started to pull the contraption off of him. "Feels better now that it's off, huh?"

Your left hand gently worked the muzzle off, your right still lingering where the strap had held. Those bindings had been tight, it must have hurt having to wear it for so long. Without thinking your fingers brushed the spot where it had connected on his skull, a sympathy wince on your face.

You didn't realize your mistake until you saw that eyelight dilate, almost filling his eye socket.

In the split second it took to pull your hand away there was a loud snapping sound that you later would realize were the leather straps holding one of his arms in place. No one in the room had any time to react, everything happening in the span of a heartbeat.

Something massive that you had just barely enough time to register as a hand grabbed your arm in an almost crushing grip, pain and surprise jolting you. Just three of his fingers took up your whole upper arm, his pinky curled around your lower under your elbow. Unconsciously you knew that, if he so chose, he could crush your arm with just one good, strong squeeze, and you felt your blood run cold at that. Instead you were yanked forward, your stomach and hips colliding with the steel table. Your breath was torn from you in a pained gasp, the muzzle flung from your fingers as your free hand instinctively slammed down and pushed against it. There was a commotion behind you, but you could barely focus on it.

You looked up, mouth agape as you tried to muster the breath for a _scream-_

And that single rust red eyelight was almost _blazing_ now as it stared into your eyes.

In your peripheral vision you had an _intimate_ view of his teeth, razor sharp and chipped in places, as well as the scars that marred his jaw and face. If you looked elsewhere you could see the marks trailing down his cervical spine, the deep fissures and imperfections where broken bone had healed over long ago.

But that red eyelight seemed to fill your vision, banishing coherent thought and freezing your breath in your throat. Fear gripped your very SOUL as you could only stare, frozen, waiting for him to make his move and deliver whatever punishment he had in mind.

You couldn't bring yourself to even try to flinch away when his jaw opened, just slightly, and your mind immediately jumped to him lunging to bite. Instead you heard him take a slow, deep inhale, through his parted jaws and nasal bone, the air whistling ever so slightly as it did so. You couldn't see how hard he was straining against the leather straps keeping his back against the chair, trying to move closer to you. He already _loomed_ over you, with how you were bent over the table before him. Even meeting Red for the first time you never felt this small before.

That eyelight constricted slightly, the leather making a grating _groan_ against the strain, before you felt a sudden, sustained _pull_ on your arm. Your eyes went impossibly wider as your free hand flew to his hand, weakly trying to pry it off but to no avail.

Then you were pulled over the table, yanked until your hand was next to his head as your feet left the floor. Your teeth clicked painfully together as a strained, panicked whimper escaped, your free hand moving away to slam back against the table to keep you upright. You found yourself shaking in his grip as you found how much he had closed the distance between you two. Your neck pinched painfully as you pitched your head back to keep from it colliding with his chest, your eyes already drawn back to that eyelight as his face twisted into an emotion you...couldn't place. You could swear that perma-grin on his face got wider though. If he didn't have those straps in place across his chest and stomach, he could lean down and kiss the top of your head, he was so close.

_"Shoot him already!!"_

Several bursts of compressed air, something whizzing past your head and lodging itself in his clavicle. More tranq rounds struck him in the shoulder and arm, and the grin on his face transformed into a snarl as his eyelight finally moved away from you and to the guards that had fired the rounds. You could see it starting to glow, the familiar crackle of magic rising in the air.

From behind a pair of arms wrapped around your middle, the other nurse grabbing and _heaving_ to try and get you out of the way. Startled out of your stupor you let out a shout, pain bursting from where your midsection had hit the table (and where those arms were squeezing) as well as the jolt in your shoulder from where your arm gave a painful lurch. Skull's grip hadn't budged an inch, and the nurse was throwing his whole weight into it. For a moment the stark terror you felt was replaced with a sudden, sharp fear of your shoulder getting dislocated-!

Skull fixed his flaming eyelight on him, his jaws parting in a gruesome _snarl._ Another resounding _snap_ and his other arm was free, only up to the elbow, but it was enough for him to levitate the nurse that had grabbed you into the air, seizing his SOUL with his magic, and throwing him into the other guard, making them both crash against the wall. The whole time his grip on you never wavered, and you could only watch as he began to pull against the rest of his restraints.

The other guard was shouting something into a radio, drawing the skeleton's ire next. Eyelight blazing, jagged bones began to appear in the air around the two of you, twisting and aiming to plunge into the guard like arrows. The air became stifling, and you swore you could almost taste the biting magic on your tongue as you sucked in a gasp, like licking a battery.

"W-Wait Skull _wait!"_ you shouted, clutching his wrist. _"Don't hurt him!"_

His attention was drawn to you, for the briefest of moments, even as he sent the bones flying toward the guard. But the distraction was enough for the guard to be able to throw himself out of the way, dropping his gun as it was impaled and shattered against the wall. You let out a scream as you heard a miriad of bones embedding themselves into the wall, and the pained shout of the guard as he was struck. Blood splashed against the white wall, mingling with the magic in the air. You couldn't see it, but two of the bones clipped him in the shoulder and thigh, but he managed to make it to the door, trying to throw it open for when backup arrived.

When you looked up again your vision was blurred with tears, but you could see that his attention was back on you, his eyelight still ablaze but the flames were receding. Were the tranquilizers finally taking effect?

You flinched, your voice cracking in a sob when you heard the rest of the leather straps trapping his other arm snapping, his other hand coming up toward your face.

"A-aah-no please- _hnng!"_

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks as the palm of his hand rested against the side of your face, his fingers curling around the back of your neck and head. You could feel how sharp the tip of his phalanges were, but he was careful not to let them dig in, merely threading softly through your hair.

The grip on your arm loosened, but before you could pull away you felt the fingers of his other hand lacing behind your head, cradling your face between them and tilting your head up further. Your own hands flew to his wrists, gripping them tightly as you clenched your teeth, a choked whimper escaping as your whole body trembled.

This was it. There was so many ways he could kill you just holding you like this. The thought broke whatever courage you had left, a watery gasp sucked in between your teeth the only sound you could make as you waited for whatever was going to happen.

When nothing did, and you chanced to open your eyes again, his eyelight was back to normal, but it looked fuzzier than before. He didn't try to crush your head, or twist your neck, he just...held you there. Staring at you.

You blinked, another tear rolling down your cheek as you tried to make sense of what was happening. You saw his eyelight move slightly, watching as it rolled down and melted against his hand. The magic in the air was starting to die down too, slowly but still noticeable.

He just held you, staring unblinking and unmoving into your wide, teary eyes. The cloth of his uniform felt cool under your hands.

 _What is he doing?_ some distant part of you wondered. _What is he waiting for?_

Rapid approaching footsteps drew his attention again, and a surge of hope blossomed in your chest. _You were going to get rescued!_

A split second later the air was filled with the sound of almost-gunfire, bursts of air propelling special darts through Skull's uniform into his arms. You couldn't help but give a yelp as you tried to shrink down in his hands, gripping his wrists as you tried to push them up and away. After furiously and _frantically_ pushing, you felt his fingers unlock, his grip going lax and finally allowing you to pull free.

(You weren't sure if you were imagining it or if he was conscious enough to do it, but he was careful not to let his phalanges cut into you as you slipped away.)

You collapsed against the floor the moment you were free, all feeling and coordination of your limbs gone. More footsteps and two pairs of arms were hooking under yours, dragging you out of the room as more grabbed the other guard and nurse still slumped against the wall. When you looked back at him he was already slumping against the table, but one of his arms had been outstretched, hand hanging limp over the edge. You dismissed the thought that he must have been reaching for you as you were being taken away.

You were taken into the private infirmary along with the other three staff that were injured. Given what _could_ have happened, your coworkers marveled that the worst you suffered was some pretty bad abdominal bruising and a strained shoulder. The nurse suffered a mild concussion, as well as the guard, and the bones only clipped the other guard. The scars wouldn't be pretty, but he escaped without any disabling injuries, which he considered a blessing.

As a mug of hot tea was pushed into your still trembling hands, you cursed yourself for that slip-up in the room.

You knew you had nearly gotten killed. He _could_ have killed you. He had _every chance_ to. He had already shown you what he was capable of with just his magic in that room, and that was when he was _already_ dosed with several rounds of tranquilizers.

You felt your eyes burn as clips of the event played in your head like a zoetrope with slides missing here and there, your mind struggling against the numb shock of it all to embed it all into memory. It was a strange feeling, feeling like you could remember everything in crystal clarity one moment, the other it slipped away like water in your grasp.

One thing was for sure - that fear you felt in the moment was seared into your brain, into your very SOUL.

You weren't going to go back into that wing for a long time.

...

You brought the mug to your lips, not even registering it was still slightly too hot to drink as you stared blankly at the far wall.

Maybe you should talk to Sans about this later.


	2. First Encounter (Skull)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skull's POV of that first encounter with Reader.

It itched.

Just a little, but enough to be noticeable. 

They must have changed the detergent they used to wash the uniforms again. 

This time it smelt less flowery, more like freshly ironed clothes. The scent of bleaching solution had finally started to fade.

It wasn't unpleasant, but even that slight itch felt magnified. Like they do when you can't reach to scratch it, and it becomes hard to think about anything else.

He tried to focus on that itch. It helped keep him grounded.

It was a good distraction.

It kept him from thinking about how tight the straps were, or how small this chair was, or how uncomfortable the muzzle they kept making him wear felt.

You bite a few nurses here and there and suddenly you're 'not to be trusted' without it, except for when you're eating.

_At least when you do eat, when they're not withholding food from you for snapping at a nurse that got too rough trying to rip the damn thing off,_ he thought bitterly.

He had enough scars on him without needing to add any extra because a stupid nurse got too overzealous showing their irritation with _him_ when he was _just as glad_ to show just how much he hated him _back-_

He clenched his jaw, cutting off the train of thought before he could follow it down too far. 

The magic that was beginning to flare slightly died down again, settling back into his bones.

It was getting harder to rein in his emotions lately, but he was still coherent enough to recognize the signs. If he let himself get too angry, too _incensed_ just thinking about things that made him mad, he knew what would happen.

In come the guards.

Out come the tranquilizers.

And when he got control of himself again it was hours later. 

With no clock in the room and the lights in the room only shutting off at a certain time, it was disorienting every time it happened. He hated not knowing how much time he lost, how long it had taken for him to wake up again. 

The worst was when it happened before or during a meal. Then he'd wake up, trapped, wondering how long they'd make him wait before they would allow him to eat again. Which would make him even more restless and irritable and liable to snap until they starved him out and he was too hungry to care about the cruelty of the staff, or the endless boredom of his room.

There was only one guard in the room at the moment. Even behind that stupid helmet he could feel those eyes staring at him. That stare was almost as bad as the mechanical ones in each corner of the room, those little blinking red lights letting him know that he was being monitored.

When he was alone in the room with nothing but his thoughts, oftentimes he'd stare at the closest camera. Letting whoever was on the other end know just how much he hated this. Hated _them._ Let them see how it feels to have someone _staring right back._

The lights could be hypnotic at times. When he got bored of staring straight at the camera, he'd let his gaze unfocus so that little blinking light was the only solid, consistent thing he could see.

_Blink._

_Blink._

_Blink._

It was the one act of defiance they let him have, besides his perpetual silence. The latter could barely count, though, only when they were trying to get him to talk. Other times he was certain the silence was welcome, even if it made the constant staring even more unnerving.

Still, he couldn't deny that small thrill of seeing their faces twist into a scowl, their voice going from calm, to angry, to exasperation, demanding, _imploring_ him to say something.

_We only want to help,_ they would say.

_We can't help you get better if you won't cooperate,_ they'd plead.

_It's for your own good,_ they'd sigh, defeated as he'd be taken back to his room, another session gone absolutely nowhere.

It had gone so long he started wondering if this was turning into an endurance test.

If he waited them out long enough, maybe they'd give up and finally let him go.

But _damn_ they were persistent, almost as bad as him. 

_Almost._

If that was the game, then he was determined to wait them out. Let them come to realize keeping him here was doing absolutely nothing, realize they wasted their time and his, let him go so he could go back home to Papyrus-

...

_Papyrus._

He felt himself slouch in the bindings of his chair, the thought of his younger brother taking the wind out of his sails.

Was he okay, all by himself out there in the world? Was he taking care of himself? 

Was he eating right?

Was he _eating?_

Papyrus visited every 2 weeks, and only for an hour; that was the maximum this place allowed, and he always talked up a good show. He'd show him some new puzzles he had been working on, or talk about some books he had taken up reading, or go onto a tangent about whatever his support group talked about the past two weeks.

And _stars_ he loved those visits whenever they came. He loved hearing his brother talk, the way he moved his hands and his eye sockets shone when he got really passionate about what he was talking about (which, to be fair, was nearly all the time). He'd be the only one that could coax a smile out of him, and even a few words here and there as he asked him to tell him some bombastic story about whatever had tickled his fancy that week.

But he wasn't stupid. He could see how his brother's shoulders would droop, that slight slouch in his posture. The way his smile would get forced sometimes, besides when he tried to press him to talk about how things were going in the asylum, and how his treatments were coming along. Things that Papyrus thought he wouldn't notice, but he could see the creeping exhaustion that was stealing his vigor.

His brother was facing the world alone, without him there to help him. And that hurt his SOUL far more than anything this place could throw at him.

_But he knew that he was here partly because he had tried to take care of him._

_Stood up for him,_

_lost his temper,_

_saw red,_

_and..._

...

There was a crackle through the guard's radio. They stilled for a moment, then lowered their rifle and left the room. The door didn't even creak when it closed, the heavy steel coming to rest with a low thud that almost made the room vibrate with its weight.

Skull's eyes, which had been staring into space, fell to the floor.

...

He tried to focus on the itch.

...

...

...

_Footsteps._

Just outside the door. Even through the thick steel and stone walls he could still make them out.

They were bringing him lunch. He couldn't even muster enough of himself to be annoyed, that he had been sitting here for almost an hour and they were _finally_ bringing him food.

He waited for the door to open.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Four-

But instead of heavy metal shifting open, he heard someone knocking on the door instead. 

Distantly he realized that _that_ was unusual. The staff usually came in like they owned the place, owned _him,_ like there was nothing he was doing that would warrant the necessity of knocking, or that he was deserving of anything like privacy in the first place. They wouldn't have put the cameras in his room if they thought otherwise.

He kept his eyes to the floor as the door finally swung open. Four pairs of footsteps entered, the door closing firmly behind them. 

He could hear the faint _click_ and rustle of rough fabric as the guards adjusted their grips on their rifles.

There was silence for a moment. Another thing he realized, though this detail drew his attention a little more.

No yelling, no threats, no derogatory remarks.

He knew he should feel depressed, _angered_ that he'd gotten so used to them that it became the norm for him without knowing, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"Hello Skull."

The voice was unfamiliar. Soft. He could hear the uncertainty and nervousness behind it.

_Ah. Another new nurse._

That explained the knock on the door.

He wondered idly how long this one would last before they'd crack, like the rest of them had.

He said nothing as they introduced themselves.

"I'm going to help take care of you today, okay?"

It was almost like they were asking _permission_ to. He watched as their shoes stepped into his peripheral vision, and he finally lifted his eyelight to look.

The first thing he noticed was that you were holding a tray. It was laden with food, and normally he would have salivated at the sight, but something else drew his attention.

You were holding it rather tightly, he could see how your skin paled around your knuckles where you were squeezing. Your nametag was slightly obscured, and the lights in the room were casting a glare off it that was making it hard to read, but he managed to catch your name before his eye met yours.

What he saw made him openly stare, and he could feel his eyelight dilating slightly.

You were...smiling at him.

And it wasn't like the forced ones the staff would give him. Like when the doctors tried to talk to him, or the nurses attempting to make small talk.

That apathy he had clung to so desperately lately was starting to give way to mild surprise when he saw how _genuine_ it was. 

When was the last time someone had looked at him like that?

He watched as you came closer, setting down the tray. Your eyes were half-lidded, watching what you were doing, as a hand came up to tuck those stray hairs back behind your ear. It was almost...picturesque. Such a small motion, but he found himself so focused on it. 

Watching the gentle curl of your fingers, seeing your eyes moving under your lashes, little wisps of hair peeking out from behind your ears not quite tamed by the attempt to keep them in place...

All the while, still with that little smile on your face. 

You looked up at him again, your eyes automatically searching for his. Your eyes betrayed only the slightest glance to the crack in his skull before they fell to his eyelight, then to his...mouth?

_The muzzle?_

You held up your hands for him to see. They were empty, palms facing him. 

"I'm going to remove the muzzle so you can eat, okay?"

He made no move to answer for a moment, staring at you. Noticing how _small_ and fragile your hands were, how the sleeves of your coat draped over your wrists, hiding your arm in an expanse of white. The fabric was a starchy white, but he couldn't smell any lingering detergent on it. 

It...smelled like you. 

With a mental jolt he realized how far his thoughts had drifted, and your words finally registered.

He must have reacted somehow, because your next words all came out in a rush, promising not to touch him more than necessary. Then you had glanced nervously back at the other nurse, who seemed more than content to hang back with the guards by the door.

While you were distracted, he used these scant few seconds to Check you.

With your neck turned to the side like this, he could see the curve of where it met your shoulder, your uniform and coat hiding the slope to your shoulders. The coat almost seemed too big for you, he noticed, and he could make out the line of muscle that traveled down your neck to your clavicle. Your skin was unmarked, smooth. 

Then his gaze dropped to your chest, where your SOUL sat...

and his breath was stolen away at what he saw.

Examining a SOUL had become more and more difficult with his...condition. To muster the concentration needed, to get his magic under control enough for him to see, just to see without losing control took a greater effort than usual. He had practiced it a lot when he first came to this place, looking at the nurses that seemed to swarm him at all hours, at the doctors as they tried to help him. Theirs were dull, marred. Working in this place seemed to drain their SOULs as much as it did the patients.

Not even the new hires were immune. He remembered observing their change, feeling the ones he recognized coming close and Checking them across the room. It didn't take long for those vibrant souls, full of hope and promise, to have their colors become mottled and fade too. It was almost a shame, watching their bright, eager faces fall as the reality of this place set in. Perseverance was drained, Kindness was withdrawn, Patience was exhausted. Bravery waned more and more each passing day. Justice turned a blind eye to the abuse they saw.

But _you..._

Your SOUL was _alive,_ still bright and beating despite everything this place had thrown at you. There were still imperfections, spots where your endurance had been tried, and he could make out just the lightest glimmer of old scars, but the brilliance of your SOUL encompassed them all.   
Determination had kept you going, all this time. It helped fuel your Perseverance, sustained that Kindness despite the abuse it suffered, and lended strength and renewal to Patience. Your Bravery didn't waver, even as you came into the metaphorical lion's den. And Justice kept you humbled, knowing full well the power you had here, but never abusing it, never exploiting it.

He looked at you with a sudden clarity he hadn't felt in years. Like he was seeing an actual _person_ for the first time again. 

Your hair shone in the light of the room, the little strands tucked behind your ear almost seeming like they were winking at him with the slightest movement. He could see that gentle expansion and relaxation of your chest, the way your lips were slightly parted as you looked to your companion with uncertainty. 

He found his own mouth trying to open to mimic yours, only managing a fraction before the muzzle stopped him, but he took in a deep, slow breath all the same. 

This was _you._ This was all of you, and it was...you were _beautiful._

He felt his SOUL give a small thump at the unbidden thought.

When you turned your attention back to him again, he was pulled from that almost day-dreaming state when he remembered what was supposed to happen next. His brows creased slightly, but you seemed to pick up on that immediately, murmuring an apology as you reached for him. He couldn't lean back to get away, but his eyelight immediately turned to watch as your hands came up on either side of his head. He felt you flinch, but when he didn't move, you gently rested your fingers on the clasps that held it in place. 

He almost blinked, but he didn't want to take his eye off you as you tried to get it off. If it wasn't keeping his jaw shut, he'd tell you that you couldn't take it off one-handed, and it looked like no one had informed you of that either. The nurse in the back sure as hell didn't look like he was going to come forward and help.

_Bastard._

So he could only watch as the seconds dragged on, your face falling as your eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing a little more firmly in concentration as you kept trying to get the muzzle off. As you did so, he couldn't help a little flutter of _amusement_ in his chest, that only grew when you pulled your hands away and let out a little huff. You even apologized to him when you couldn't get it off.

It was...cute, he decided, trying to put a feeling to when the flutter suddenly became warm.

When you asked him to turn his head, he almost considered not doing it, just to tease you, but he could see how your fingers were shaking still. Not wanting to torment you, and wanting to show up that asshole of a nurse that was making you do all this by yourself, he slowly turned his head to where you pointed, moving his eyelight so he could keep staring at you. That warm flutter returned when your face brightened at this, and you began carefully working the clasp on that side free. You were distracted, which left him free to stare at you as he pleased.

He could see the gentle contours of your face, the soft raise around your cheeks and the rounded slope of your chin. The way your eyes caught the light and made them seem almost aglow with life. A lock of hair had escaped from behind your ear, and a slight increase of pressure on his arm made him realize that he had tried to raise it against his restraints, wanting to reach out and tuck it back again. He puzzled at the sudden, domestic thought, but then you were asking him to turn the other way. 

You looked more relaxed now, he noticed. Your hands were more steady, and you even let out a little noise of triumph when you got the other part free, carefully pulling away the muzzle. "There we go. Feels better now that it's off, huh?"

And then, ever so gently, your fingertips brushed against the freshly sore spot from where it had been held together.

He felt a jolt straight to his SOUL at the contact, conscious thought swept away in a wave of rapturous tenderness from just that little contact, as if your SOUL had heard the pain of his own and was trying to reach out to help.

He jerked his arm free with such force those leather bindings stood no chance to hold him down. His hand sought your arm, grabbing and _squeezing_ it before you could pull your hand away. 

_He needed more of that._

_He needed you to touch him again._

He yanked you toward him, forgetting about the table that separated the two of you until he heard you slam against it, a pained gasp escaping your lips. The muzzle was flung away, his focus faltering when he felt how small your arm felt in his grasp.

_Careful!_ his mind screamed at him, and he relaxed his grip a fraction. 

You were staring up at him, eyes wide with new, sudden fear, but he couldn't pay it any mind.

You were so _close._

He focused on the feeling of your arm, trapped in his grip.

Even through the sleeves he could feel warmth radiating from you, feel how the flesh of your arm gave around his squeezing fingers. 

The close proximity was making him feel slightly dizzy. But unlike the woozy, disorienting feeling of losing consciousness that he was so familiar with, this was a heady, floating sensation.

His jaws parted slightly as he took in a deep breath, feeling, _tasting_ your scent as it coalesced in his chest, making his SOUL flare. All at once it felt like his senses sharpened to crystal clarity, the foggy veil that had cast itself over them for so many years finally lifting.

He felt your hand grab his, trying to pry it off, and creating that same jolt to his SOUL as it had before. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to pull you into an Encounter right there, even as he _yearned_ to touch your SOUL and let that sensation drown him completely. 

_He needed you closer._

He pulled again, bringing your hand past his head, and then you were on the table before him, scrambling to right yourself before you collided against him. He strained against the straps against his chest, trying to come closer to you, even as your fear grew into abject terror.

He stumbled to make himself form words at all, wanting to promise you that he wouldn't hurt you.

To describe to you what you were making him feel.

To plead how much he _desperately_ needed you right _now-_

The sound of someone shouting and the telltale bursts of compressed air were his only warning before those _damnable_ tranquilizer rounds found him. He felt his magic flare all at once, his working eyelight transforming into a _blaze_ when he heard you cry out, the other nurse trying to pull you away from him-!

He didn't even take notice of the drugs that were trying to take effect to slow him down. He summoned his magic with more control than he had felt in ages as he wrenched his other arm free, just enough to seize that man's SOUL for _daring_ to touch you! In a rage he threw him into the closest guard, noting with distant, grim satisfaction the crash they made as they both slammed into the wall. Both of them crumpled to the ground, knocked senseless.

As he strained against the straps that still held him down, he heard shouting behind you. His eye snapped to the remaining guard, magic crackling as the air warped around him. The bones he summoned appeared on either side of him, their jagged points aimed directly at that guard. He was going to nail him to the wall like a _bug_ for interrupting him-

"-ait Skull _wait! Don't hurt him!"_

His concentration wavered, just enough for his aim to tilt slightly. When the bones slammed through the wall, you screamed, and his attention was brought right back to you with razor-sharp focus. He ignored the smell of fresh blood, the spatter he made on the wall, and how the guard had managed to weakly crawled away.

_You._

_You were crying._

_He had scared you._

Not wanting to let go of you, knowing that you would try to pull away from him and escape, he tried to raise his other arm. When he felt the squeeze of the leather, his face fell into a momentary scowl, and he jerked his arm hard enough to pull it free. He felt you flinch, the way your body trembled as you let out a small sob.

"A-ahh-no _please-"_

_It's alright._

You let out a strangled sound as he cupped your cheek, curling his fingers around the back of your head. 

You were so soft. 

Your tears felt warm against his hand.

_It's alright._

His palm brushed ever so gently your skin, feeling that heady sensation from before washing over him, as he tried to convey calm and reassurance through his touch.   
He didn't enjoy your fear, found no pleasure or satisfaction in it like he had with the other staff. It...almost physically _pained_ him to see you like this.

He felt a twinge in his SOUL when you whimpered as he released your arm and cradled your head between his hands. He did it carefully, _tenderly._ Trying to mirror how just this small contact made him feel, as the words caught impossibly in his throat. 

He could feel the way your hands shook, clutching his wrists through his uniform. For a moment he wished he could have ripped the sleeves away to feel your hands grabbing _him,_ but the small warmth he felt, emanating from your hands and face, it was like a soothing balm on his frayed nerves. 

He felt more like himself than he had in a long time, even since before his head injury. More collected, more in control.

A relief that he had always yearned for, and only ever received when he was able to see Papyrus for that little window of time they had together. 

He took in everything; the feeling of your skin against his palms, the way his phalanges threaded through your hair, how _small and delicate_ you felt in his grasp. How your SOUL felt like it soothed all the sharp and cracked edges of his, how just _holding_ you like this made the ache in his head go away, banishing the angry, grating buzz like a hive of hornets had filled his skull, feeling every scrape and movement they made.

Your eyes finally opened and met his, still misty as tears clung to your lashes. _More beautiful than morning dew on an echo flower,_ he thought. _Than a whole field of echo flowers._

He held your gaze, taking in your sight, your scent, everything, engraving this moment on his very SOUL.When the guards rushed into the room, he surrendered you, letting them take you out of the room as he finally slumped over the table. Even as he felt his consciousness slipping away, he used the last of his energy to make sure his claws didn't catch on you.

* * *

When he awoke again it was dark in the room. He must have been unconscious for hours, well into the evening. 

He was strapped to the bed, the leather and steel cuffs pulled tight around him. A leather muzzle was on him now, the one they made him wear when he slept on the days he went into an episode. The parts of him that were hit with the tranqs ached with a dull throb. 

He blinked slowly, and sighed.

_'m sorry I messed up again, Paps._

The sudden jump in time, the missed meals, and the hunger he knew would follow over the next few days should have made him feel angry, remorseful for what he had done.

And for a moment, he could almost pretend to himself that the events of that afternoon had never happened. That it was all some hallucination, a bad reaction to the constant stress and the meds they pumped into him every day.

But he could still feel your skin against his bones, his fingers twitching as they recalled the feeling of your hair brushing against them. 

He still felt the echoes of how it felt when you had reached out to touch him for the first time. A peace and alertness that he could recall with crystal clarity, even now as he sat in that dark room, the drugs still coursing through him, dampening his magic and muddying his thoughts.

He stared at the ceiling, not caring to find the red lights of the cameras that night. 

He stared for a long, long time.

When he felt himself starting to drift off again, the memories of today beginning to fail, he clung to that last thought of you, your face held between his hands and the serenity he felt in that moment.

He moved his jaw slightly, testing the give of the muzzle. It wasn't as tight as the last one, allowing him to open his mouth and take in a deep, slow breath.

Your scent was still in the room. Faint, almost erased by cleaning chemicals and steel, but it was still there. A testament that what happened today hadn't been a hallucination.

You had been here.

You had reached out to him.

Everything he had felt in that moment was _real._

He clung to that memory of you, held it close to his SOUL as his consciousness began to fail him.

He whispered your name into the empty room right before he allowed himself to slip away, uncaring of whoever was watching the cameras in that moment.

That night was the first peaceful sleep he had since he came here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Chapter 3 is in the works, so stay tuned!


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